


Almost Like A Prayer

by ActuallyRocketRaccoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyRocketRaccoon/pseuds/ActuallyRocketRaccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set somewhere after 10x06. Dean misses when he could just pray to Cas. He's been calling him, but the angel never answers. Now it's nearly Christmas, with no word from him, and Dean is getting worried. Included in this story are desperation, hidden feelings, and ugly sweaters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Like A Prayer

_"Hey Cas. I, um... I just wanted to say hi. Make sure you're alright. It's been a few weeks, so... call me back, kay? We miss you down here."_   


_"Hey Cas. Been a month now. Where the hell are you...? Whatever. I'm feeling way better, if you were wondering. A case showed up a couple days back; It was friggin weird. Some high school girls wrote a musical from Chuck's books. Prophesies, whatever. Ganked some goddess bitch trying to control stuff, pretty standard deal. And the music was actually pretty catchy. You got a solo and everything! Gotta say, the kid who played you was pretty adorable. Not that you're not. I mean— not that I think—fuck— shit. Bye."_   


_"Cas. Please call me. I killed a shifter and I... I liked it way too much. Kept shooting her way after the bitch wet down, lied to Sammy about it. It just felt so damn good... I don't know if it was just cause it was my first kill since... Y'know, or if it was the Mark. I dunno what to do here. Fuck, I miss you."_   


_"Cas... I miss praying to you. I've tried, but it ain't the same now you can't hear me. I guess these messages are the best I can do now... Fuck, man, where are you? I... forget it. Just do what you need to do. Happy Thanksgiving."_   


_"Merry Christmas, Cas! I know it's not for another week, but tis the season, right? The bunker is pretty cold this time of year, Sam's got like three jackets on all the time. We got some pretty hideous holiday sweaters; they're disgusting, but at least they're warm. And soft. They're gross on us, but you could probably pull 'em off. Maybe you can stop by soon, have some eggnog or something. Hope you're having fun up there."_

* * *

 

Castiel sighed. Dean had been calling him for over a month, his voicemail flooded with the hunter's — increasingly desperate — messages. Cas knew it was selfish to ignore Dean's calls, to wait for the voicemail notification to pop up before diving frantically for his phone. The angel loved hearing his friend's voice calling to him; when Dean left messages, he didn't stop talking to check Cas' reactions or second-guess himself. If Cas plugged earbuds into his phone, shut his eyes right, and turned the volume up high enough to drown out all other noise, it was almost as though Dean was praying to him again. 

Almost, but not the same. Cas could no longer feel the emotions behind the hunter's words, couldn't sense the thrum and buzz of Dean's soul reaching out to him. He missed the other man tremendously; Sam too, of course, but not to the same extent. After Dean's last message, the urge to leave Heaven was nearly overpowering. Cas longed to race back to his human family, to spread his broken wings and be outside the Winchester's bunker door before he could change his mind. He forced the urge down. There was work to do, years of angelic war and neglect to fix. 

 

Castiel was halfheartedly sorting through ancient archives, looking for any hint of how to repair the gates between heaven and earth. His mind was preoccupied, however; he had put his earbuds in, and was listening to Dean's latest voicemail for maybe the dozenth time. Cas was about halfway through the message when his phone began ringing loudly in his ears. _"...hideous holiday sweaters; they're disgust— BRRNG BRRRNG"_

Cas hit 'accept call,' but he had barely opened his mouth to utter a greeting when he heard an all-too-familiar voice. 

_"Dude, was that the door?"_

Cas froze; he shouldn't have picked up. He wouldn't have, if he'd known who was on the other end. He was just about to hang up when another voice echoed from his phone. _"Dean, it was just a creaky floorboard. Man, you're really jumpy. You okay?"_

 _"Yeah, I'm fine."_ Dean replied, scratchy over the line. Cas sighed; pocket dial. He hesitated only a moment before settling back to listen to the Winchesters' conversation. Sam was speaking again. 

_"Liar. You're a wreck."_

_"Whatever."_

_"Have you tried calling him?"_

_"Shut up. Yes. He never answers."_

Dean sounded almost desperate, and Cas frowned, suddenly guilty. He knew that Dean missed him, but not to this extent. Sam's next words did little to assuage his uncertainty. 

_"He'll come back. He always does, one way or another."_

_"Yeah, I know. It's the 'another' that scares me. I just... shit."_

_"Dean? Are you... crying?"_

_"Shut up."_

Cas bit his lip. He could feel his wings tremble, desperate to rush to Dean's side. 

_"Have you told him how you feel?"_

Cas blinked. What was Sam talking about? The angel turned up the volume on his earbuds and listened more intently. 

_"Don't be an ass."_

_"C'mon Dean, it's pretty obvious. No one cares about this macho man crap but you. Just kiss Cas already, you'll both be happier for it."_

_"Whatever, Doctor Phil. I'm going to bed."_

Oh. Cas blinked rapidly; twisted the cord of his earbuds between his fingers; felt the heat rising to his face. _Oh._

* * *

 

Sam picked up Dean's phone from where it lay on the floor, the screen displaying Cas' number and a blurred photo of his face. The speakerphone button glowed cheerfully.

_"Whoops. Hey Cas."_

_"Hello, Sam." The angel sounded a little shell-shocked. Sanding bother to hide his grin._

_"Sorry about that; the phone must have dialed your number when Dean dropped his coat. You coming down for Christmas?"_

_"...Yes, I think I am."_

* * *

 

Dean stumbled downstairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He poured a cup of coffee — strong and black, just the way he liked — and followed the sounds of a muffled television into the living room. Sam and Dean had furnished the little den from a corner of the library, and they were both rather proud of it.There was a couch, a used flatscreen tv, a coffee table, and several cushy chairs that they'd dug up in the vast basement of the basement. The whole thing was surrounded by bookshelves (several of them stocked with Dean's collection of Busty Asian Beauties). All in all, pretty homey. 

Dean yawned widely as he approached the room. "Hey Sammy, thanks for making the—" Dean stuttered. Sam didn't make coffee. Ever. He barely knew how to use the damn machine. 

Just then, Dean rounded the corner into the living room and saw just who was curled up in his favorite corner of the couch, flipping through TV channels. "Cas?"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel, on-again off-again Angel of The Lord, stood from the couch, hitting the 'off' button on the remote before tossing it onto the coffee table. In an instant he was invading Dean's personal bubble, crowding him into a warm, affectionate hug. Dean stiffened for a moment, but gave up as soon as he felt Cas' breath huff against his neck. The hunter buried his face in his angel's shoulder, clinging tight with one arm around Cas' waist, the other hand coming up to tangle in his hair. 

"You stupid fuck," Dean muttered. He pulled away, holding Cas by the shoulders as he took in his appearance. When he saw his friend's outfit, Dean wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. 

Cas had ditched his usual suit an trench coat for a pair of loose jeans and... a Christmas sweater. It was one of those things that balanced right on the line of disgusting and drop-dead adorable. The sweater was a deep red, and portrayed a plump white kitten tangled in green tinsel, holding a sprig of mistletoe in its mouth. The whole thing was neatly stitched into the knitted sweater, and to Dean, it looked like it should be hanging in a grandma's living room, rather than on the chest of the angel standing in his. 

Cas smiled, somehow smug and shy all at once. "So, can I pull it off?"

"Definitely." Dean glanced up and met the angel's eyes; they glimmered with the same somersaulting joy that Dean felt whenever he and Cas were together.

"Fuck it," he muttered, and leaned in to close the gap between their lips. Cas met him halfway, pressing against his chest against Dean's and slipping his fingers under the hunter's shirt. Their mouths met once, twice, sweet and deep, chapped skin pressed close and desperate to make up for years of pining. 

Dean pulled away too soon, laughing at Cas' annoyed huff. "Relax, man. We've got all week." He hesitated. "You are staying for Christmas, right?" 

Cas nodded, leaning in to kiss Dean again, quick, like a promise. "I'll stay for as long you want me here. Heaven needs my help... but I need you, Dean."

The hunter smiled. "I need you too, Cas. I... I really missed you."

"I missed you as well, Dean. And... I miss your prayers too."

Dean hid his face in the angel's shoulder. "Shit... I guess you got my voicemails. Can we just, um, forget about those?" 

"Absolutely not." Cas smiled, weaving his fingers between Dean's. "Now let's go. I heard there was eggnog."

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't really feelings the Xmas mood yet, so I wrote this to get myself pumped. Tell me what you think!


End file.
